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1. A "knight" post is in the works. Sorry it has been a bit slow on that end but I promise it will build up. I was waiting on Silver Rogue to post but decided to move on anyway. If all goes well, there will be something to reply to in about 24 hours.

2. A "Mercenary" post is also in the works, and is waiting on Ichiro to post. Once he gets one done, the "Mercenary" group will be able to move on. Raitan can post if he would like to. Or he can wait. Up to him.

I appreciate the patience. We will get this moving. Promise. Also, you can use this thread to talk to each other. Being social is half the fun :DD

If anyone else would like to sign up, they are still OPEN. I may put that in the OP later. If the mood strikes me xD

Ha! The nerve of actually requesting us to speak in the OOC! Such pompousness!

Oh, but do ask if you have any questions whatsoever, and we will do our best to answer. Feel free to make things up as well. An original world has plenty of room for it. A fine example is in Ichiro's last post with the new invention of Raelus Fire Ale.

1. A "knight" post is in the works. Sorry it has been a bit slow on that end but I promise it will build up. I was waiting on Silver Rogue to post but decided to move on anyway. If all goes well, there will be something to reply to in about 24 hours.

2. A "Mercenary" post is also in the works, and is waiting on Ichiro to post. Once he gets one done, the "Mercenary" group will be able to move on. Raitan can post if he would like to. Or he can wait. Up to him.

I appreciate the patience. We will get this moving. Promise. Also, you can use this thread to talk to each other. Being social is half the fun :DD

If anyone else would like to sign up, they are still OPEN. I may put that in the OP later. If the mood strikes me xD

Appearance: The true look and feel of Ladamer's body is a story that many people of Raelus seem to have their own interpretation of. While some will say he's a 'seven foot tall behemoth with a fiery gaze and the strength to match', others refer to him as 'a skinny little con artist with a devilish grin and the wits of a bloodthirsty gremlin'; neither of which falls close to the truth.

Ladamer stands at a dead-on 5"11', that of which makes him look much taller due to his upright posture and refined style of treading. His legs, being distinguishably taller than most of his body, give him premise over most of his peers, as he tends to have to look down on most to have any sort of communication with them. His weight is kept at a balanced and nutritionized 160 pounds, which more than likely became the backbone holding up the 'behemoth' line in most Raelus' folklore.

His eyes are noticeably slanted, which make his burnt sienna eyes appear to be downgrading anyone who passes their gaze. It is also complemented by his intimidating long white hair, that flows seemingly effortlessly about the length of his back. He keeps it lengthy and coarse, as is customary among mist of his Elf kind. While it manages to take care of itself, Ladamer spends a decent amount of time and care on his mantle, feeling inadequate should his Elfen symbol of pride be blemished or defiled in any manner.

His skin is bronzed in a flawless brass brown, which almost glistens under the morning sun, which can only be seen by those lucky enough to catch him during his morning rounds. His skin has no blemishes or imperfections. His only distinguishable features, besides his apparent medieval facade, would be the coiled birthmark on his left forearm, which starts at the elbow and makes a single loop around that stops at his wrist in a narrowed line.

His masculinity is well toned and chiseled, despite his subtle and slender mannerisms. He hones his appearance to stay in peak performance by training and swordplay on a regular basis. The agility and speed he spent most of his time obtaining pays off by bis incredible litheness and dexterity. His torso, while a little over average in length from most Elf's of his kind, is completely overshadowed by his durable calf and leg muscles, which do nothing but make his upper half seem shorter than actual size.

Ladamer wears a traditional ceremonial robe most hours of the day, the only exception being his underarmor and his traditional Elfen battle attire.

The robe he dons is worn mostly in the Raelus Palaces throne room, whenever he advises the King himself or his compatriots. The entire cloak like piece is but a single drapery, that you can throw over your shoulders and meet the collar in the middle, where a silken gold thread can be looped around a button on the other side. There are sleeves hidden on the inside, colored velvet dark with dyes and color mixtures, that Ladamer puts his arms through to conceal anything that he'd need to protect the King or use for himself. The sleeves on the outside are the same dark black, with the exception of the blood red hem of the garment, which has about a two inch line of red covering the overly long sleeves. The bottom hem of the piece has the same two inch red line and the same can be said for the hood of the robe, which limply hangs down to Ladamer's shoulder blades from underuse.

Underneath the robe, if he's seen in the palace throne room, Ladamer wears his Elfen battle armour, which has the Raelus crest over the chestplate. It is an head-to-toe piece, light and exceptionally fitting as to not interfere with his nimble quick movements. The shoes of any of his outfits consist of a pair of silk black flat shoes, breathable and very comforting on his long trips.

Given his position of power and authority he can come and go in any attire as he so pleases, granted that it adheres to Raelus' blood red and black color scheme. Therefore, during any of his other trivial leaves from the palace, he wears a long sleeved dressy like shirt, red in color with black buttons, with the cuffs of which flow out into a more open sleeve, which he hides his hands in and walks with arms folded; again to conceal weapons or items from would-be criminals. For this outfit he wears black trousers, held up with a brown leather belt and used to tuck the loose fabric of his shirt into. The shoes, being the only time in which they'd change, are the same style of comfortable flat shoes, just dyed red in color. This and his ceremonial Raelus robe are the only outfits seen by the commonfolk.

Personality:

You will never find Ladamer put off of his guard, and if you found yourself so lucky as to say you did, you'd either be lying on your manhood, or telling the truth-just unable to relay the news that you did. Cunning and almost frighteningly brilliant, he enjoys his very few seconds of downtime learning and mastering many different agricultural or academic feats, be it blacksmithing or woodworking alike. A favorite thing of Ladamer's to do in his free time, if he's not entertaining the company of King Calason, would be to host miniature sparring rounds against guards of the castle that he felt may "need the extra training".

Ladamer is quiet when in thought, thoroughly cunning, and deadly with his delivery-be it attacking physically or in warfare. Due to his overly extensive hearing range and his almost gunman like eyesight, Ladamer tends to boast his talents and abilities with pride, to any and everyone willing to lend a willing ear.

In his everyday appearance, Ladamer is kind and calm. He is very generous, despite what villagers may spend their life denying. If he couldn't win over the hearts of his people today, he'd try again tomorrow with earnest, all in the namesake of his lordship.

As is customary with every advisor to the throne, Ladamer does have his fair share of doubts and plans of unrest brooding, how ever often that may be. But, due to his late grandfathers convictions and bravery, Ladamer would never think to act upon such urges of inacting phases of some "master scheme" that would disrupt the throne and threaten his Elfen kind brethren.

Instead of acting on temptation, Ladamer chooses to Muse his sorrows into song and dance, two things people can quite honestly say he's good at. No matter the case or occasion, Ladamer will always play soothing melodies and Epiphany his woes into masterful and magnificent pieces.

The King holds Ladamer's skill and ability in high regard, sending some of his most challenging problems to his Aide for the latter's own opinion. It is something Ladamer doesn't mind in the slightest, finding that most of King Calason's ailments, be it physical, trivial, or sickness alike, are more often than not quite a test of knowledge to solve himself.

History: Ladamer Loure Vanhaussen the III, third grandson of Sir Leviase Traener Vanhaussen. Born on October 27th, 1766 in a small village on the outskirts of Eldur. His entire Elfen family came from a long line of amazoness women and warrior men. The symbol and pride of their village, Lamapoure, is apparent in their silken white hair. Their hair is said to be a blessing of the gods themselves, granted only to the faithful and purest of their Elfen bloodline.

In 932 FC, soon after the initial foundation of Bredon, Sir Leviase Vanhaussen and his then lowly tribesmen were captured and forced into servitude under Bredon's banner. Their capture came as a peace treaty between Raelus and the latter, as a show of good faith and trust amongst the then warring territories. Under Bredon's ownership, the Lamapourean elves were sent off to pillage, seeking only death in destruction to anyone who opposed the territories rule. It was during this time Ladamer's thrice Great grandfather earned courtship with the Bredonian kind. He was allowed troops and his very own militia under the posthumously endearing title, The One Tears Names from Faces, due to ensuing matters of unrest against Bredonian men.

Ironically, Leviase and his newly established men usurped a coup'de'tat, attacking Bredon's campsites under the stroke of night. Leviase's men were in charge of attacking the hub of Bredonian influence, King Belethor the First. By quietly and effectively infiltrating the castle grounds, Leviase and his troops assassinated the Bredonian King, removing his face with a rusty axe before riding off in the den of night.

Months later, word spread of Lamapourean treason, and Bredon's mercenaries rode out and attacked a defenseless Leviase in his stead. It was this series of events that have Leviase his title, and managed to return his people back over to their rightful home, Raelus.

Hearing of Ladamer's family and their exploits, an impressed leader of Raelus happily accepted the family name back into Raelan recordings, even granting them royalty behind the Kings name. While not necessarily a bad end of the deal, Leviase's men still had servitude, for many generations afterward actually. Ladamer and his Lamapourean tribesmen live highly in regard in Raelus, even having enough time to stay up to par physically and religiously to the King, who treats his subjects in high regard as it is.

Ladamer spent the first 16 years of his life learning the tools of the trade. Spying, reconnaissance, negotiations and dialect, assassination and warfare techniques, all in order to successful fulfill his duties at the rightful protector to the King. The role is "granted" to the first-born son of the newest generation of Lamapourean blood. Since the people of his kind were no longer captives, but instead were hailed as royalty, Ladamer gladly assumed his position, secretly enjoying his service to the throne, and the peaceful life his people now lived under it. His relationship with King Calason has been smooth and easy, only ever having to prevent disastrous events (like assassination for example), just once, however, Ladamer is always on his toes for any newer moves of the same instance.

Weapon Preference: Ladamer is an exceptional adept at using a double-edged rapier, which the King recognizes his brutality fierce expertise in. Whenever his hands are folded, he conceals many poison tipped needs and throwing knifes, most of which leave brutally large callouses and splints on his hands, another reason for concealing them in his sleeves. His rapier is on his person whenever he leaves to foreign lands, and his throwing knives and needles accompany his person as well.

RP Sample

Spoiler:

It was late afternoon one Sunday morning.

Ladamer has been awake for what seemed like days now, yet it had only been six or seven hours to count. Whatever it was about today that made everything appear to move so slowly, he didn't like it.

Probably a means of sorcery, no doubt. the young elf thought to himself, the words stooling around in his head as he tried to place happenings with fact.

Still, despite all that'd been happening so far today, or the lack thereof rather, Ladamer found himself stuck alone in the study of Raelan Palace. There he sat, just himself a candlelight and an old Bredonian encyclopedia. Why he'd ever bothered to grab such a horrid and distasteful piece of literature, he'll never hope to reason. Still, with nothing better to do, why not have a little history lesson all to himself? Ladamer knew all to well why he'd chosen this book, however. And from the way the pages so effortlessly flew open towards the back of the hardcover, so did the book itself.

Staring back at him, in tints of yellow paper and worn black ink, was his great-grandfather. Leviase Traener Vanhaussen. Militia leader and the greatest warhero of Lamapourean kind. The title fit that man better the glistening iron armor he had owned, which you could tell looked simply magnificent-even in the low-light and worn pages he was being admired under.

"You were quite the man amongst men, grandfather ..." Ladamer said to himself as his fingers traced the penmanship of his late relatives posthumous naming.

Why was this slowly becoming his favorite thing to do? Why was heading down to a local eatery and rambling through stories of old with his kinsmen such a wonderous and calming pastime for the young elf?

Well, being the heir to an empire of loyal and loving Lamapourean kind definitely counted as a reason, and hearing about the man behind it all was the tiebreaker for another. Ladamer had heard the story about a thousand times. Had it been through the nasally passage of a human, it definitely would've had some misconceptions and many more lies than truth; something Ladamer would have definitely repayed with great punishment. If anybody, the story would've had to been told through the pride of a Lamapourean. Hearing it then, you'd have every last detail painted so perfectly in your mind, there'd be no need for any sort of reanactment or charade; although that would most certainly be an amusing touch.

Ladamer gave a small muffled laugh at the thought. He'd have even allowed a human the privilege of mocking his grandfather then.

I am Leviase Traener Vanhaussen, rightful aide to Raelusian Throne! In my hand is the face of true oppression! Look on with awe as I remove it from this land by the flames brewed by his injustices!

Thinking of how it might have looked and sounded, what was once a small chuckle grew into an enormous chortling fit. Ladamer began laughing so hard his gasps for breath seemed like pleads of life from anyone merely listening in.

Which was probably what started his guards on the outside into commotion. After slamming the library doors open, two gaurds came rushing in, swords and bows respectfully armed and in the ready.

The room was silent, each and every corner of it. Surely what the guards heard weren't the makings of an attack on their Lamapourean vanguard? What would King Calason do should he hear of this? He'd have their heads on staves for it, worse yet for the whole capital to observe in shock. They'd have to face their punishment, though. Ladamer was missing, and all the guards could hope for in the end was that Calason showed mercy on their--

"...May I assist you two, gentleman?" a voice called as they'd emerged from behind a long bookcase.

"L-Lord Vanhaussen!" the first of the two armoured humans called out in relief.

Showing no sign of understanding, Ladamer simply tilted his head in confusion as the guards both removed their head visors to observe the King's Aide. "...Yes? Was something ailing you, my friends?" he asked after a moment.

"We...we thought we heard screams ... Sounded as if someone was in pain..." the second man explained.

Ladamer, while not conveying it, had much disdain towards the two daunting figures in front of him. My laughter is similar to pained screams? Ladamer thought concealing his scowl with zeal.

He moved his arms into the outside sleeves of his ceremonial robe and headed towards the door, gesturing his companions out of it. "Well I assure you there's nothing of the sort going on in here, gentlemen. Now, if you have no further business..."

The guards passed each other confused looks at Ladamer's calm tone, but without any other word, exited the room and heard the door click shut behind them. Ladamer simply walked back over to his grandfather's visage, and sat back down in front of it. My laughter doesn't sound like dying does it?...

Other: His pointed ears are concealed behind his hair, blocked out by sunlight and making them slightly darker because of it.

I apologize, I am back. For the record, I had announce that I was going on two camping trips. It just so happened that the trips had only a couple of days in between, and my boss was having me work overtime to make up for the time I would be on trips. Things have been ridiculously busy and frustrating the past week or so.

So....can I be...unremoved? I have a post about half done right now, but I will wait for any news before I post anything.

Anyway, now the fun part begins, catching up in every roleplay I am doing so far...fun.

As far as I am concerned, you can be unremoved if you post in the next 24 hours and/or before Roku posts (since the Knights are waiting on her as well). The Knights are moving a bit slower than the Mercenaries, so there is no reason we cannot put you back in ;D

I'm going to go on a liberty as I haven't yet discussed with my Co-GM, but seeing as how the Knights currently have four members in them, and the Mercenaries have 3, I believe in the purpose of balancing the sides out, one spot is open on the mercenaries.

I'll have to ask that I be excused for about two days from the RP please.

I'm going to be doing community service hours so that I'll meet the quota necessary for my graduation. I'll be gone for the next one or two days, and won't be able to successfully make a decent post in the amount of freetime I'd be allotted.

If it's not too much trouble for anybody I'll just have to be absent for the time being, and come back afterwards

Religion: The Council of nine, particularity ThordainAppearance: Despite his family hailing from Falke Tyson does not fit the typical image of his people. It is rumoured that the blood of the Highmen runs through his veins and looking at him you can see why. He stands six feet tall and has shoulders as broad as an ox. A life of working in the fields from a young age and a short term of service in the Falke army have toned his body as well as tanning his naturally pale skin.

The most striking feature about Tyson is his bright red hair, which earned him the nickname “Red” even from being a child. His hair is long but straggly falling to about an inch above his shoulders. A thick beard coves his face of the same rusty red colour as his hair. His eyes are a brown with flecks of dull green like a muddied battle field.

Usually Tyson wears a white shirt, well it was white at one time, many fights and days travelling have stained it such that it shall never be clean again. Over this he wears a chain vest a “souvenir” from his army days, the battered rings still hold despite having taken their share of a beating. The chain mail hangs below his waist and he wears a thick leather belt, with a large brass buckle, over it. From his belt hangs his hammer, always at hand for when he needs to strike down a foe from a distance. His trousers are plain, the brown of a common peasant, it is a small reminder of his past.

At one point he had a helm but he left it behind when he fled the army, preferring to let the wind blow through his untamed hair. He also wears a black hooded cloak with a yellow lining, yet another item he retained form his days in the Falke army. Around his neck he wears a pair of crossed axes made from copper on a simple chain it is a symbol of Thordain.

Personality: Tyson is the kind of guy who knows what he wants and goes out of his way to get it. He has no qualms with stealing to get what he is after but often finds it better on his reputation if he finds a legitimate way to do things. And reputation is all you've got in his line of business, the better your reputation the more people will come out of their way to find you. He sees no sense in saving money and spends most of what he gets from his work quite quickly but he keeps a small amount to tide him over till his next job. Or rather the next time he gets paid.

As a Mercenary there aren't many jobs that Tyson wouldn't take, only ones that he considers suicide missions. The thrill of the fight is something that Tyson craves, which is a part of the reason he left the Falke army. The challenge of beating multiple enemies or taking down a single powerful enemy is what Tyson looks for in battle. Easy fights or finishing off harmless targets doesn't interest him. In the Falke army he had a tendency to break rank to fight, his view of battle is not strategy and mass formations but a single man's fight for survival. Tyson began to pray to Thordain some time after joining the Falke army. He prays every night and morn by swearing his fidelity to Thordain asking for protection in battle and then offering tribute in the form of his slain opponents. As far as plans go he likes to keep things as simple as possible. Normally that means starting a fight even if negotiations would be more suitable.

His sense of pride is very strong, especially for a common man, and he can get angered very easily is something offends him. Tyson dislikes nobles, particularity those that treat their subjects poorly, as he doesn't believe in birth rights. In his mind all men should be born equal, an idea not fitting of the times, though his dislike goes beyond that as far as being prejudice. Despite this a lot of work comes from rich clients so he grudgingly works with them, though he will take no nonsense from them. When angered Tyson will get aggressive, but he normally has enough restraint to avoid drawing his weapon unless necessary. Being a farmers son, he hasn't been educated and even so he is a bit thick witted. He can't write and can only read enough to find the nearest tavern.

When he isn't travelling or working you will probably find Tyson in the nearest tavern, enjoying himself, by drinking, gambling or singing, which the other guest don't always enjoy. He isn't used to the high life and this is reflected in his choice of drink, a hardy stout. He is more than a little cocky at the best of times but this is made worse when he has been drinking, he will often get into bar fights while in a drunken stupor often for trivial reasons. He also believes that he is irresistible to the ladies and will frequently try to flirt even when working. No matter how many times he gets slapped round the face his self-confidence doesn't get hurt and he goes on thinking that he is a real charmer.

History: Tyson's home town is towards the northern border of Falke. A small hamlet some halfway between the city of Kirkland and the neighbouring country of Miracyia. It goes simply by the name Crow's Foot as it straddled a somewhat uneven set of cross roads. His father was a typical Falke farmer with his mother side carrying his abnormal blood.

As a young boy life was hard, the life of a peasant is one of constant toil. Yet his father made sure there was always food his wife and child. As long as Tyson can remember his father would go to the woods in the middle of the night, carrying a bow and hand crafted arrows. He would return before morning with his well earned spoils, a rabbit or pheasant or maybe even a swan all for the pot. Tyson was normally sent to bed before his father left at night but every now and again his mother would let him stay up, just to see what he brought home in the early hours of the morning. His mother would kiss his father good bye and wish for his safety before he left. When ever he asked where his father was going, his mother would answer “The woods” and put a finger to her lips because it was their secret. Sometimes Tyson would ask to go with his father, to which his father would laugh and say he could go when he was old enough.

From by age of six Tyson was already helping out with farm life and could manage to do a great many of the simplest tasks with out help. His father would encourage him saying that helping around the farm would help Tyson become big and strong enough to go with him at night. Alas that night never came. One night Tyson's father left and didn't return. Tyson and his mother waited all night until the dying embers of the fire faded to ash but still he did not return. The life of a poacher is a dangerous one and as they found out some days later, he had been spotted, shot with an arrow and killed by one of the lords men protecting his master property. The death of his father hit Tyson hard but he had to remain strong. There was more work than ever on the farm and his mother was starting to show the signs of her age. Aged only eight Tyson began to take over more and more of the work on the farm until by the time he was in his mid teens he was managing it alone.

His mother tried to persuade Tyson to peruse his own life, to further himself beyond being a simple farmer, to find a wife and start his own family. Tyson refused to leave as he knew that doing so would be sentencing his mother to death. He continued to run the farm until his mother passed away when he was fifteen. He laid his mother to rest beside his father and sold up the farm. The little money that he received he used to travel to Falcon Peak, where he would join the army.

Despite being aged only fifteen Tyson looked old enough to get away with lying about his age and join the army. He spent two years training, fighting and guarding before he decided to leave. He had finally had enough of being treated worse than the dirt people walk on. It is a surprise that he lasted two years as his personal view of war didn't fit with the armies view of war even from the off. Before fleeing the army he carefully considers his options. He decided that becoming a mercenary was a much more profitable choice than becoming a bandit.

Over the next few year Tyson travelled the lands, taking jobs when he needed. His hammer he stole from a blacksmiths in the Highlands when he was evading the men of a Lord he had just killed and was in desperate need of a weapon. It was during this time that he slew a knight and took his pole axe as a trophy, this is the same weapon that he wields even today.

Weapon Preference: Tyson wields a poleaxe as his primary weapon. It consist of a six foot shaft tipped with a head made up of three parts. An axe head designed to rip through amour faces forwards. Facing the other way is a bill hook, a long spike that curves towards the wielder, for pulling enemies in. On the top of the tip is a six inch steel spike and at the butt end of the poleaxe there is a similar spike.

His secondary weapon is a heavy throwing hammer. It has large stone head sat atop a sturdy oak shaft and a leather strap on the end of the handle. Tyson will swing it by the leather strap to build up momentum before releasing it at his enemies. As it is a blunt weapon it is easier for Tyson to retrieve after throwing, especially when he can snag it with his bill hook.

RP Sample:

Spoiler:

Upon arriving back home, Kitaru was greeted by his mother.

“Hi dear, your father not back with you?” She asked noting that he was alone.

“No he went to finish shopping.” Kitaru replied and went on tell his mother about the battle and finished with his father's message. Part way through his sister came into the hall, way where Kitaru was explaining his day, with a few of her friends.

“You did well, to beat another trainer after just one day with your Pokémon.” His mother said after he had finished his story.

“Yuzuna, Kitaru isn't a Pokémon master yet... and Setsuko's brother is still in nappies so I hardly think it's fair...” Kitaru's mother tried to explain as she gently nudged past her to get into the kitchen, Yuzuna followed her and their discussion went on.

Kitaru headed up to his room and place the bags he had brought back with him on the floor. Then he released Azura on the floor next to him and Mischief on the bed so that he could take a look at him. Kneeling down next his futon he inspected the unconscious Pokémon he had a few scrapes and bruises but nothing major. Firstly Kitaru began to root around in one of his draws until he finds a tub of smelling salts. He opens the tub and immediately a waft of the stench enters one nostril. It's a smell he knows well having been knocked out in a fair few fights before now. Then taking the tub in one hand he holds it under Mischief's nose. He only had to wait a second before the Pokémon took a fact of it in and then...

“PANSAGE!” Mischief yelled as he came round and tried to sit up.

“Stay down, I brought you round with this but your still weak.” Kitaru said shaking the tub at which point Mischief scowled, he was not pleased at the manner he had been woken up.

“Pan sage pan.” Mischief said laying back down while pretending to be gravely ill.

“Yes I suppose I can find you some food.” Kitaru said as he left the room. He popped his head back round the door a moment. “You aren't half Snorlax are you?”

Kitaru returned to his room with a bowl of tinned fruit. It was all the fruit they had left in the house and as far as Kitaru knew Mischief only ate fruit. Was it normal for Grass Pokémon to be strictly vegan it seemed fitting somehow. He had drained the juices into a cup that he held in his other hand. It had been a guess of his that thing would get messy if he didn't. When Kitaru had entered the room he gave Mischief the bowl and the monkey like Pokémon immediately started to scoff the fruit. He place the cup down for Mischief to drink from after he had finished eating.

Once the Pokémon had finished eating and drinking Kitaru tended to his wounds and to those of Azura. He sprayed each one with a potion. Then when he had finished he set about packing his gear into a rucksack. This including packing the stuff his father had bought him took him most of the afternoon. Finally he had the chance for a few simple luxuries that he would miss on his journey. He watched TV and took a shower, before getting ready for his meal.

The meal in honour of Kitaru's victory earlier that day was held at just about the only restaurant in Januvale. Kitaru and his parents had already decide that he would leave the next day and so the meal was also a sort of send off for him. They ate and talked and celebrated late into the night. While Kitaru was enjoying his meal he put the worries of leaving and the pressure of knowing that it was his task to save the region to the back of his mind. Besides there was nothing he could do to help right now.

The next morning was a day of mixed feelings. Kitaru was happy and his family were happy for him but as he left home they all felt a little sad that he was going. Before e left his father had given him four empty Pokéballs they were quite old, his father told him that they were left over from his days as a trainer. Kitaru's mother gave him some money and reminded him to call home when he reached Feborough Town. He promised that he would and then set out along the road that would lead him out of town.

As he passed the sign saying he was on Route 11 he was walking through a small wood. High in the canopy of the trees he could see the silhouettes of flying bug Pokémon. It was still quite early in the morning and the grass either side of the path was coated in a fresh morning dew. Some where nearby he could hear the splashing of a small river and the cries of Pokémon. But other wise the forest was quiet, it was tranquil. He could hear Azura and his own foot steps and the rustling of the wind in near by bushes. And so without another though he set off on his journey and left behind the town that had been his home for so many years.

***

The particular section of Route 11 Kitaru was walking long was a well worn path that ran along side a narrow brook. The water flowed back down towards Januvale foaming as it wound its way around rocks. To Kitaru's left was wood land scattered with bright coloured flowers and over the stream to his right was a small open meadow. Azura was walking several steps in front of Kitaru, she seemed to be enjoying the fresh air and the scenery. Kitaru took a look out over the meadow, stopping in his tracks for a second. Then he approached the edge of the brook and in a single leap jumped over it. He landed on the other side and had to steady himself to avoid falling back into the water behind him.

“Eon.” Azura called questioningly from the other side of the stream. She had stopped in her tracks and was giving him a puzzled look.

“I'm taking a short cut.” Kitaru said, Azura thought for a second and then bounded across the brook much more gracefully that Kitaru had. Together they set off again this time across the meadow. Once again Azura was in the lead.

A fair way into the meadow Kitaru heard a buzzing sound. Looking around he noticed an area of grass was moving and crept towards it. Azura noticed his intention and started to prowl towards the spot, she looked rather like a cat that was sneaking up on its prey. As they approached a Combee flew out of the grass straight up in the air to about four foot of the ground. It noticed Kitaru and Azura who startled it and flew away.

“Combeeeeeee!” It buzzed as it fled Kitaru and Azura. “Combeeee!”

“Quick after it.” Kitaru yelled standing up and chasing the Combee. He chased it beyond the meadow and over a small stone fall, where he stopped to catch his breath. The meadow was some what waterlogged in places making it marshy and difficult to run across. Azura followed him easily and even waited for him before they continued their pursuit. Nearby were some houses but Kitaru paid little attention to them as he chased the Pokémon. The Combee landed on a box and went inside. Before Kitaru had gone much further he realised that the box was a bee hive. He might be desperate to get more Pokémon but Kitaru was in no way a thief. He turned to trudge off but was stopped by a voice behind him.

“After my Combee are you?” An old bee farmer was yelling. He was stood in the door step of one of the houses that Kitaru had passed earlier.

“No! I didn't...” Kitaru tried to explain.

“I'll teach you a lesson! Get him boys!” The bee farmer yelled, ignoring Kitaru's protests. The bee farmer stepped aside and three Electrike stepped forwards from inside the house.

“Ah!” Kitaru gave out a slight panicked scream and started to run.

“Elec.” The Electrike started to growl. “Trike! Trike!” They barked as they chased Kitaru. Kitaru headed towards the nearest wall to the field he was in, he hoped that if he could get over it the Electrike wouldn't be able to follow him. Sprinting he reached the wall in less than ten seconds, he was getting tired and his chest hurt as he gasped for breath but he didn't stop. Azura easily managed the same distance in just slightly more time than Kitaru. Kitaru vaulted the four foot wall without checking what was over the other side first and Azura followed. Luckily the ground on the other side was not much lower and they landed in a pile of leaves. They were in a small wood, with dead leaves all over the ground. Kitaru pushed himself to his feet as soon as he could and Azura just shook the leaves off. They set off running again, Kitaru checking to see if the Electrike had stopped following them. Two of them were still chasing them but the other one ad either given up or been unable to leap over the wall. With just two of them and no farmer, Kitaru and Azura could have a chance in a fight but it definitely wouldn't be a fair one.

“Azura! Split up! Get ready to attack!” Kitaru yelled, peeling off to his right. Azura changed direction in an instant and started to go left. As he ran Kitaru looked for anything he could use. In just a few steps he spotted a stick and came to a stop. It was a good thing that he had found one as he couldn't run much further. He grabbed it and jogged back towards the Electrike. He stopped when they were getting close, giving himself just enough time to prepare himself for their attack.

One of the Electrike didn't even make it to Kitaru. It dived at him but was knocked out of the air but a Quick Attack from Azura. The sneak attack took it by surprise and gave Azura the upper hand in her fight against it. As the other Electrike approached Kitaru, it did so with caution, it didn't want to be caught off guard like it's friend. The Pokémon Leered at Kitaru it was trying to scare him.

“Trike! Trike!” It barked. Then rushed in to knock Kitaru off his feet with a Tackle. As the Pokémon approached Kitaru swung the branch in his hand knocking the Pokémon aside. He didn't feel like he did when he normally got into fights. Normally he was just angry and yes he was angry at the moment but he also felt a little pity for the Electrike. He thought that he heard it whimper as he had hit it. The Electrike got up and shook its self off.

“Elec!” It growled at him. This time Kitaru made the first move. He held the stick low to the ground and swung it at the Pokémon. The Electrike avoided the attack and tried to counter Kitaru. It dashed past the stick before Kitaru had chance to react and zapped him with a jolt of electricity.

“Ahhh!” Kitaru yelped as he felt the electricity run through his body, was that a Thunder Wave.

***

Meanwhile Azura and the other Electrike had been fighting. After Azura had tackled the Electrike with Quick Attack it rolled its self over to escape her. It turned to face her and Leered. Azura retaliated by with a Sand Attack. She jumped to one side and kicked dirt and leaves in the Electrike's face. It tried to Tackle her but she easily dodged the blind Pokémon's wild attack. She attacked with another Quick attack, before the Electrike was ready. The Electrike used Thunder Wave that Azura dodged with Detect but then attacked again with Tackle. It slammed into the side of her driving her back, it had anticipated her dodge of the first attack and so planned to hit her straight afterwards. As she threw the Electrike off she heard Kitaru yelp in pain and doubled her effort in fighting. He would have to hold on until she had finished here.

“Glaceon!” Azura charged the Electrike with a Quick Attack, she didn't care if she was hurt any more.

“Trike!” The Electrike barked as it Tackled her to the floor. Azura rolled out from under it and with a twist turned back round to attack it again.

“Glace-E-On!” She roared loudly and knocked the Electrike back with another Quick Attack. The Pokémon tumbled through the air and hit a tree. The Electrike got up and ran off, whimpering all the way.

***

Kitaru was on the floor he tried to move his legs but he couldn't. He still had the stick in his hand. What had happened. Then it came flooding back to him at the same moment the Electrike dived on his chest trying to bite at his face. His arms were still working and he forced the stick under the Electrike's chin to stop it biting him. Drawing from his experience in fights he went to roll over. He hoped to pin the Electrike down. But he couldn't manage it the Electrike had him pinned. Digging his right elbow into the Pokémon's side he tried again and this time managed to throw the Pokémon off and roll onto his belly. He pushed himself into a kneeling position one might push from his arms and leant on his stick for support. The Electrike attacked again trying to knock him down again with a Tackle. Still leaning on his stick he bashed the Pokémon away with his left arm, it hurt and he would get a bruise there but it worked. The Electrike tried to scare him with another Leer and then walked round behind him. He struggled to turn around with his paralysed legs and couldn't see where the Electrike had gone. He got ready to attack should it try to rush him but it didn't. Several seconds went by and then Azura approached him she had a few cuts and a large bruise on her side. She nuzzled her head under his arm and sat their. The Pokémon and trainer sat their waiting until Kitaru was able to walk again and then they continued on towards their destination. Neither made a sound as they were both too tired to.

***

Later in the day, after Kitaru had stopped for lunch, he came across a small pond. Azura looked at the water carefully for a few seconds, went over to the waters edge to quench her parched lips. While she carefully sipped at the water Kitaru stared at the pond. There was a slight rustle in the bush to his left and he turned to face the sound. A Marill had wandered out of the bush and spotted Kitaru it had frozen in place it seemed like it was unsure of what to do.

“That's defence curl I think. Use Leer!” Mischief began to Leer at the Marill causing it to curl tighter into a ball.

“It's not working the Marill is to scared to come out. I won't be able to capture it unless I weaken it.” Kitaru thought for a moment. “Attack it with Scratch!” Mischief ran forwards and raked his claws across the Marill. The Marill burst out of its ball shape and turned to face Mischief. It looked mad. It shot a torrent of water right in his face pushing him back. The Pansage was a little startled by the attack but not to hurt to Kitaru's relief. The Marill attacked again, Tackling Mischief to the ground.

“Use Vine Whip!” Kitaru ordered and Mischief got back to his feet and sent out vines to attack the Marill.

“Marill!” The Pokémon cried curling back into a ball for defence, the way it did that was really starting to annoy Kitaru.

“Right use Lick!” Kitaru ordered Mischief who obeyed by running up to the Marill and licking it. The Marill unrolled from its ball shape and lay on the ground stunned. At least now it was paralysed
Kitaru actually had a chance at capturing it.

“Use one last Vine Whip!” Mischief once more attacked the Marill with its vines.

“Pokéball! GO!” Kitaru cried as he threw a Pokéball at the Marill, a cry that could probably heard back in Januvale. In a flash of red light the Marill was gone and all that remained was a shuddering Pokéball.

Hey, I understand Sign ups are closed but absolutely HAD to post praising the RP (after Skymin recommended I give it a look)! Reading through the background info provided it is staggeringly well thought out and a pleasure to read. Hope the RP continues to go from strength to strength for all those involved!

EDIT: I've been told the Sign Ups have been reopened and as such here is an SU (Apologise for any poor grammar I havent had a chance to proof read yet but will do so in the morning):

Spoiler:

Name: Rickard MayceAge: 22Gender: MaleRace: HumanCountry of Origin: Ethora, The Golden IslesAppearance: Rickard stands at 5ft 10” and is of a lean build. His skin has been left a deep brown by time spent in the sun and bears many marks of a tough life. He could not be considered an attractive man although his poor looks are due more to his lifestyle than his pedigree. His face is sharp, with high cheekbones and a crooked, pointed nose. The ears are small, with the left one missing a large section that appears to have been removed with a dull blade leaving the wound ragged in appearance. His thin lips sit amidst a neat beard kept so short it could almost be called stubble. A scar stretches from the right ear to the chin following the jaw line closely. The eyes peer out from below thick black eyebrows and above deep black bags. The whites of the eyes are bloodshot from too much ale and too little sleep, the irises are coloured a deep blue which rivals the sea surrounding the Golden Isles he once called home. Surrounding the face is ebony hair worn loose and at shoulder length.

Rickard’s clothing is kept simple, functional and dark. Preferring the swift sword play of his home islands Rickard feels clumsy in heavy armour and so opts for a mail hauberk, leather leggings, boots and gloves. Rickard prefers not to wear a hood or coif to aid in his movement and peripheral vision. The only ornamentation upon his armour is a single plate of armour covering the heart decorated with an enamelled black swan. This ornamentation is purely optional.

Personality: Rickard has been gifted with a sharp tongue and the dark sense of humour to make use of it. He is fully aware of these traits and takes great pleasure in the use of them. His tongue is not only used to harm however and can be put to use in negotiations and acquiring what he needs. Rickard is talkative and rarely caught without a word to say on the matter (even if those words are pointless quips). He also understands that words can take a man only so far and has gotten to where he is today only by realising this fact. Calm and slow to anger Rickard can appear lazy and even disrespectful at times. These qualities all serve to charm, infuriate and confuse people in equal measures.

Rickard Mayce has made a name for himself as the leader of the Shadow Swan Trading Company. As the leader of such an outfit Rickard has gathered contacts with people and guilds present in most major port cities. Rickard and the SSTC take little interest in the fighting of lords and have loyalty to none. He follows the gold, trading with any and all sides of a conflict. He is not as cold as he may at first seem however and has been known to smuggle goods to common people caught in siege situations for little or no payment. He reasons that this is not interfering if the lords themselves do not receive the items.

Some may believe such a man to be amoral and this would be understandable. However Rickard has sworn never to again turn to pirating or theft of any kind. These warped morals Rickard holds close and instils in all of his crew.

The hard life Rickard has led and risk of death at each turn have left a man who takes many risks and lives completely in the moment. Although he is able to plan and does so in his professional capacity outside of this he seems to lurch from one moment in the next as if diving blindly into the future.

History: The Mayce family are the lords of a small coastal holdfast a day’s fast ride from Stormguard to the South. As such they are the bannermen of the Taimors. The emblem of the Mayce family is a silver swan with wings spread over a field of deep blue. An ebony sword dissects the sword vertically with the neck of the swan wrapped around the hilt. The family words are “Rise on the bounty of the waters”.

Rickard was the second son of Lord Jorrick Mayce by his first wife. His mother had died of sudden illness when Rickard was 7. Rickard enjoyed the company of his older brother Brandon and younger half-siblings Alexander and Elizabeth, the two of which are twinned. Lord Mayce idolised Brandon as his perfect son and heir to the Mayce lands. As such Rickard would often be left alone as his brother, a mere year his elder, attended court with his father and learnt of the post that one day would be his.

On Brandon’s 12th name day he was to be sent as a ward to the capital of Rowanion. Lord Mayce was dumbstruck when the raven had arrived bearing the offer of warding his prized son and had jumped at the opportunity to further his house in the eyes of his liege lord. He was less pleased with the prospect of his prodigal son leaving and being left with Rickard and two babes barely days from their wet nurse’s teat.

It was mid-afternoon when Brandon was able to escape the madness of the preparations for his leaving and find Rickard in the tower overlooking the narrow water separating the Golden Isles from the mainland. The two boys were soon playing games as they always had and as usual they moved from the holdfast grounds to the surrounding fields near the cliff. Rickard had always been the swifter swordsman although his brother had more power however neither was more skilful than the other.

The sun was setting and the boys continued to spar by the Cliffside when their father finally found them. The old man was leading a large rowan gelding towards them fully saddled. A smile was evident on his face, something which was a common sight for Brandon but a rarity for Rickard. Brandon spied the horse and dropped his sword. His father nodded confirming the beautiful horse was indeed for him. Rickard chose now to strike. The sword had barely left his brothers hand as he swept his feet from beneath him. His brother fell backwards clutching at the loose earth of the cliff. His father broke into a run towards them. Rickard dropped the wooden sword. Brandon fell.

The memories of that day from then on are a vague and bitter memory for Rickard now. Images of his brother’s broken body on the rocks below and his fathers anguished screams and wails haunt his dreams to this day.

It was the next day that Rickard was called to his father’s solar and told that he was no longer welcome. He relinquished his right to lordship and was exiled in that same day. Given only the clothes and food he could carry, the gelding meant for his brother and the wooden sword that had taken his brother’s life.

After half a year living in Stormguard Rickard decided to stow away on a ship to the mainland and leave The Golden Isles behind. He did so however was soon discovered. The trading vessel he had chosen had been a small, agile ship with what turned out to be a kindly captain. The captain invited the boy onto the crew as Cabin Boy and Rickard learnt the hardship of a life on the waves.

This blissful existence lasted a mere year before the ship was raided by Highman pirates. The pirates began to slaughter the crew and would have killed Rickard had he not snatched up the sword of his unconscious captain and begun to fight. The boy was rusty but still remembered the sparring lessons the Master At Arms of his old home had taught him. By the time the boy was disarmed three pirates lay dead. The pirate captain demanded to see the boy and made him an offer: His life or his captains. Rickard fretted over the decision but soon took his old captain head. He joined the crew of the pirate ship and spent the rest of his formative years on board as they raided traders and ports alike.
At the age of 18 Rickard had worked his way to first mate under the captain who had spared him. The ship was struggling and morale was low. It was at this point that Rickard was approached with plans of mutiny. He agreed and helped lead the mutiny against his former captain soon adding his blade to that taken from Rickard’s first captain and his body to the sea.

Rickard took control with force and charisma. He appealed to the greed and lust of the crew with promises of gold to buy rum and women. When some would not listen they met the end of his blade or took their chances of reaching the shore before drowning. It was after he gained this control that Rickard swore to never pirate again. He swore to the nine and the one and any other god that was listening that day. The ship was returned to the nearest port and the loot divided between the crew as promised. With his cut Rickard rebranded the boat The Shadow Swan and it was in the next 4 years that The Shadow Swan Trading Company was built to its state today.

Weapon Preference: Rickard typically wields two blades: one long sword and one short sword. Initially these were the blades taken from the captains he had killed however with the recent success of his Trading Company he has had new matching blades forged as well as a matching brace of knives of varying lengths. The blades all possess hilts stylised to look like the shadow swan Rickard has taken as his sigil. RP Sample:HereOther:Rickard’s ThemeSide: Knights of Ekilore

Arctos.....your SU is accepted. Congratulations! You are the member of Knights as previously discussed. Read through the knight posts, paying all most of your attention to Percival posts since those contain the most plot relevant detail. As far as your first post is concerned, please wait till the Knights are down with the tower as you will be given a special role to play as a reward for your patience.

Aside from that, Rokusasu has been temporarily anvil'd/booted for inactivity. *inside joke* She can return later if she displays interest still and after I discuss it with Supervegeta.

Also, be on the look out for a OOC post from me or an edit to this one (depending on activity in the OOC thread) as I will have a special OOC post that will summarize what happened in the Tower and where the Knights will go from here.

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